Memories of a Traveling Minstrel(Journal Of A Bard)
by Stefanescu Mihai
Summary: This is the journal of the epic writer and bard Loras of Solitud. It encompasses the tragic departure from his homeland of Cyrodiil and his Exodus to Skyrim, where he found pleasure, fortune, piety and ultimately love.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

(Last Seed, 4E199)

13th of Second Seed, 4th Era, Year 199:

My father did warn me, but I didn't listen. Now, I'm paying the price. The Count of Anvil has apparently found out about my little rendezvous with his daughter...and his niece. Apparently, he wasn't very happy. He sent mercenaries to bring me back, but I managed to escape thanks to my friend Lurbuk and his orcish brethren. I have no idea how he found out about it, but I don't have the time to find out either. I gotta move. After sunset, I'll get out of this cave, sneak past their camp, steal one of their horses.

If everything goes well, I should be at the gates of the Imperial City by tomorrow evening. From there, Lurbuk said he's gonna put me in contact with a buddy of his who can smuggle me inside the city, through the sewers. As long as I keep a low profile, I should be able to stay in the city, away from the prying eyes of the count. Until he figures out that I'm here, anyway. It's sad really, I actually liked her, would've even married her...I think. Too late for that anyway.

14th of Second Seed, 4th Era, Year 199:

For the love of Dibella, they're on to me, I didn't manage to sneak as efficiently as I thought I could. The horses woke them up, managed to lose them in Kvatch, but there is a long ride from here to the Imperial City, especially since those mercs are definitely gonna alert the guards, that a 'dangerous' man is riding from Anvil. I wonder what the count actually accuses me of, since courting his daughter and niece is not against the law...well it is a bit unethical and immoral, but not illegal. Maybe he'll just give up?

I managed to find shelter at the inn in Kvatch. The people loing here told me they were in a hurry to the Imperial City. By the time I got there, they would have prepared an ambush already. I hope Lurbuk stays safe. I also hope he is a better scoundrel than he is a bard. God he sings awful. I'll try to make my way to Skingrad. The innkeeper agreed to lend me a hooded cape, to mask my identity. May Dibella watch over me.

15th of Second Seed, 4th Era, Year 199:

Managed to get out of Kvatch. Saw some of the counts' men patrolling the road. Time to see how good of an actor I am.

They bought it, the problem now is to get into Skingrad and I think I have just the thing to make my plan work. I'll send word to my buddy Small Feet. That Argonian owes me big time for getting him out of the counts' jail. He was afraid the count wants more than just his Bloodwine.

A man in black, hooded robes bumped into me today. I didn't notice until I set camp that he placed a note in my pocket. A note from Lurbuk. He says that the plan is still going, just that I have to come to one of the goblin caves that apparently connects to the sewers. It's on one of the small islands in the lake surrounding the city. I'll gladly do so. The sooner I'm safe and free to relax, the better.

16th of Second Seed, 4th Era Year 199:

I need to be more careful, I should have thought that the Count of Anvil had already found a way to make the Count of Skingrad help him. Small Feet, that filthy coward spewed out my entire plan during interrogation. I have to get off the road and go through the wilds. I hope my sword still cuts, it's gonna be a long journey.

20th of Second Seed, 4th Era, Year 199:

Managed to bypass the count's men and get myself to that small little island. I have to find Lurbuk and get myself to safety.

30th of Second Seed, 4th Era, Year 199:

I woke up in a dunmer underground house, with one hell of a headache. Barely got up. Something happened when I met Lurbuk, I can't remember what. I have to see where I am and if I am safe.

Apparently...I am in Raven Rock, the only remaining dunmer settlement of the Island of Solstheim, north-east of Skyrim's mainland. How in the world did I get here?

Talked to some more people here at the Cornerclub. Apparently I was brought unconscious, on a ship, manned by some captain with weird name. There was no mention of Lurbuk, but the owner said he heard the captain mentioned an orc bard to his subordinates. He also gave me a note, that the captain said I should read, only after I wake up.

I read it. It says that the only reason I'm still alive is that the Count of Skingrad bribed the Count of Anvil's men and him to bring me here after making sure I'm knocked out using some sort of sleeping potion.

I had a flashback after sleeping for a couple hours. I remember what happened in the sewers. I got there, Lurbuk was waiting. He brought me to a dead-end room and said he was going to go see if any soldiers were patrolling the corridor we separated from. I should've known. He sold me to the count, for a place as personal skald of Anvil. That filthy, double-crossing orc. I thought if anything, orcs had honor. If I find that sniveling rat, I'll make sure he pays for it.

I checked the pockets of my belt, the son-of-a goblin even left me a letter, telling me how great Skyrim is, especially for bards looking for work. It might be a trap but...I do need the money and I can't stay on this depressing island forever. I'll leave for the mainland tomorrow, in search of fortune, fame, alcohol, women and that filthy orc.

1st of Midyear, 4th Era, Year 199:

I barely managed to survive. I secured transport from Solstheim to Windhelm, only to be greeted by some mercenaries payed off by the count to murder me. With a bit of luck, I managed to get away by bribing one of the locals. He gave me a boat and some rows and supplies for a journey to the shores of Blacklight. They won't think to look for me in that desolate wasteland. Hopefully, I'll survive that journey.

4th of Midyear, 4th Era, Year 199:

I arrived at Blacklight today. The whole of the mainland is covered in ash and parts of the very ground are burning. The city itself has been affected deeply by the Red Mountain eruption and it is still recovering. I was taken by the Redoran guard to one of the cornerclubs and healed of the ash in my lungs. They said I was lucky to be alive. No one has spoken to me since. The dark elves hold a grudge against my kind. They think that the Empire abandoned them, during the argonian invasion and they deeply resent my kind.

I will have to stay put and recover here for a while, before I push onwards. Those mercenaries will not stop looking for me.

6th of Midyear, 4th Era, Year 199:

I started feeling better today. The innkeeper seems like a nice enough man, although he is very skeptical of me. I saw he has a lute, maybe I can persuade him to let me sing some songs in exchange for food and payment. Doesn't seem to be a very warm atmosphere here and his customers could definitely enjoy some quality music. I think I remember some old dunmer ballad from before the Red Year. Never thought it would come in handy to know that song.

He agreed. Reluctantly. Yet he agreed. I sand my ballad for the construction workers and guards. Everyone began to cheer after I was done. They all want to remember some better times, when the dunmer people were a great civilisation, not the refugees and survivors of a disaster. Some even cried during it. The innkeeper said I could sing whenever I want at his tavern as long as that ain't m only dunmeri song. Time to start learning some more.

10th of Midyear, 4th Era, Year 199:

I have received word from one of the guards that some Nord mercenaries just arrived at the innkeeper was kind enough to give me some Ashland chittin armor, to protect me from the ash dust coming from the volcano. It's gonna be a long trek down south. It's my only chance, however. That count is one persistent son of a wench. You'd think he'd let me be after evading Cyrodiil. Seems his reputation had more to suffer than I originally thought. I must make haste, if I want to be alive at the end of the day.

18th of Midyear, 4th Era, Year 199:

I don't know if I will make it. I'm only a few days away from Blacklight and my supplies are almost over. If I don't find a settlement soon, I'm afraid I'll die out here in this god-forsaken wasteland.

19th of Midyear, 4th Era, Year 199:

I have received a dream, Dibella herself came down in all her beauty and showed me that there is a small village not far from my camp, at the crossroads with another route leading into the Rift of Skyrim. It must be a trading route and I might find help and shelter there.

I was attacked! Earlier some of the mercenaries ambushed me in a mountain pass. Luckily, an ash storm began suddenly and I managed to escape in the chaos. A grace from the gods, no question. I think the village from my dream is a few day's walk from here.

Bloody hell! Those mongrels managed to wound me during the fight. I took refuge in a cave and I'm waiting for the healing herbs from Blacklight to do their magic. I might be stuck here for another couple of days.

25th of Midyear, 4th Era, Year 199:

I have arrived at the village, which seems to bear no name. It is more like a gathering of shacks and underground homes, than an actual village. The have something that resembles a corner club here, where I have found shelter and the opportunity to resupply.

I am sure that I can make the journey to Riften now, which is the only civilised city I'll be able to earn something and take care of my wounds properly.

30th of Midyear, 4th Era, Year 199:

I managed to drag myself to the border, those blasted mercenaries are on to me. How they survived the storm I cannot figure. But they got to the village and I had to make a run for it. I need to keep moving, or I'll be a dead man by tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter I: Journey in the North**

(Sun's Height, 4E199 - Hearthfire, 4E199)

1st of Sun's Height, 4th Era, Year 199:

They caught me, attacked me and left me for dead. Somehow I managed to survive that encounter. Some bandits had taken over the nearby ruined fort. I managed to put one to sleep silently. The rest fell down, under the fire of my bow. I knew those marksmanship lectures of my father would come in handy, not only for killing wolves. I didn't know it would be necessary for me to kill a human… sadly I have to survive and that's something I learned in Morrowind.

The mercenaries are probably staying in Riften after attacking me, so showing up there very much alive and well wouldn't be a very smart thing for me to do. I'll go around Riften and head over to… a village called Ivarstead apparently. At least that's what my only map of Skyrim is saying. Hopefully it is still a valid map to use.

5th of Sun's Height, 4th Era, Year 199:

Night is coming and I heard a pack of wolves howling. I should find a place to take refuge in.

Found a cave with a camp set up near it. The wolves will probably not venture inside the cave, I should see if it is safe to sleep here.

By the gods, I met a Dark Elven woman. She claims that this cave is in fact, an ancient Nord ruin and there is tremendous treasure inside, yet she wouldn't venture in unarmed, as the ruin seems to be filled with some walking corpses, called _draugr_. It seems that the ancient Nords used some sort of dark magic to bind the souls of the dead to their corpses, to guard the treasures of their masters who were buried here.

6th of Sun's Height, 4th Era, Year 199:

For the love of Dibella, I made it. Good thing the corpses are dumb and very much easy to kill if they don't wear armors. You can always count on Nord boasting.

Sadly, the dunmeri woman was as arrogant as they come. She died trying to get the treasure. Ancient Nords also seem to have been good at something other than poorly equipping their dead and that is traps.

Time to head over to Ivarstead.

7th of Sun's Height, 4th Era, Year 199:

I arrived in Ivarstead and had a beautiful time at the inn. Singing and drinking, instead of dying and barely surviving was a very welcomed change. I still need to be careful. Those mercenaries don't know I survived and they don't need to know either.

8th of Sun's Height, 4th Era, Year 199:

I have agreed to help the innkeeper take care of a problem in the barrow just outside of town. This used to be where the ancient villagers would bury and worship their dead, but it became haunted as of late. The haunting spirit didn't seem to come out of the barrow. Since my little adventure in Angarvunde, I think I'm able to take on, one little ghost.

Got in, the ghost was no ghost at all. In fact, he was a wood elf mage, who tried to reveal the hidden treasures and secrets of the barrow. In time, however, he lost his mind, believing to be part of the ruin. Maybe he was truly possessed by an ancient Nord ghost for defying the sanctity of the barrow for too long.

The innkeeper was kind enough to reward me for my trouble and also, he gave me the key, that the wood elf had been looking for. The dragon claw that would open the entrance into the deeper sections of the barrow. I will make sure I'll explore them, who knows, maybe I'll find something that the wood elf spoke of.

10th of Sun's Height, 4th Era, Year 199:

Well, it was a rather interesting exploration. I am so glad that I can hit the heads of those draugr. The treasure came in handy. I think I'll set my next destination for Windhelm, in order to trade the armors and weapons I found in theses dungeons.

12th of Sun's Height, 4th Era, Year 199:

I have arrived at a small mining settlement called Darkwater Crossing. Here there is a gorgeous woman, like I have never seen. She told me she used to be an adventurer, but now her husband doesn't let her travel anymore.

He agreed to let me accompany her to Shor's Stone, to visit her daughter after I dealt with some bandits on the eastern road.

13th of Sun's Height, 4th Era, Year 199:

We have arrived at Shor's Stone. Apparently, Anneke's daughter, Sylgia was wounded in a mining accident. Another startling beauty. She sent me back to Darkwater, to deliver some of her letters and supplies to her father.

14th of Sun's Height, 4th Era, Year 199:

I have delivered the missives and arrived back in Shor's Stone at midnight. Anneke and Sylgia asked something rather interesting of me. Anneke is one of Dibella's Faithful. A group of disciples who outside of praying to the goddess, they also practice the Dibellan Arts of persuasion through beauty and sexuality. She pleaded that we go to the temple of Dibella in Markarth, where the priestesses would give us a Mark of Dibella, an enchanted amulet that would assure one finds their true love.

18th of Sun's Height, 4th Era, Year 199:

We arrived at the gates of Markarth. As we walked in, one of the citizens yelled something about the _Forsworn_ and attempted to kill a local. Luckily a Nord warrior was fast enough to dispatch the attacker and save the woman's life. It was rather shocking. Both me and Anneke decided to go to the inn and drink this memory away.

19th of Sun's Height, 4th Era, Year 199:

We arrived at the temple. The priestesses were engaged in a ritual to commune with the goddess and we had to stay out of the Inner Sanctum. However, the priestess standing guard was able and more than willing to grant us the Mark of Dibella, only if I would go through a Dibellan ritual with Anneke and then with the priestess, in order to receive the amulet and the blessing of our glorious goddess. I would do anything to appease Dibella and her gifts of beauty.

After the rather lengthy _ritual_ we decided to head back to Shor's Stone and grant Sylgia the Mark.

23rd of Sun's Height, 4th Era, Year 199:

We arrived at Sylgia's house. I talked with both of them, just to make sure Sylgia knew what receiving the blessing of our goddess would imply. She agreed. After the ritual I gave her the amulet and the blessing of Dibella. I then prayed.

I'll stay here for a while longer, maybe adventuring with Anneke into the marshes of Eastmarch before heading to Windhelm. There I will make my performances at the inns. I must not forget about my plan to tour Skyrim's inns and taverns. A Bard is a Bard, after all.

1st of Last Seed, 4th Era, Year 199:

I have arrived. Apparently, here, the Stormcloaks allow the Argonians to work the docs. These poor souls are almost all addicted to skooma, or drunkards. It is simply desolating. Just as desolating was to see the "_Grey Quarter"_ where Ulfric had invited the dunmer refugees to settle after the eruption in Vvardenfell. This is exactly what the Empire used to keep in check, for the most part. No race was above others, even if the dunmer had been known to keep Nord and Argonian slaves as more than just workforce. Their punishment came with the eruption of that mountain. They have suffered enough.

Decided I would check the notice boards for work, after all, I barely have any gold and I still need to eat, sleep and drink. I will not stand the discrimination in this place however. Candlehearth hall will be the only tavern I won't throw a penny in. I'll only sing and get my money for it. Otherwise, I'll be at the Cornerclub in Grey Quarter. The dunmer have been nothing but welcoming ever since I arrived.

After a good meal and a couple of bottles of ale, I performed for the patrons of the New Gnisis cornerclub and decided I would explore the city for a bit.

Sadri, a dunmer owning a small used wares shop just realised he had purchased the stolen ring of one of the most prominent and powerful women in Windhelm. One, who had no love for his kind. He has tasked me with breaking into her home and planting the ring in her drawer, where she could find it and think it's only lost.

After a bit of sneaking and lockpicking I managed to break into the woman's house and plant the ring. Sadri was very grateful, even gave me part of his savings, 400 gold, which I found more than what I deserved. He is a good man, he wouldn't have deserved whatever fate, the Nords would have sentenced to.

I seem to start understanding the complex politics of this city. The dunmer have lived in these miserable conditions for a few years and given their lifespan, they would remember it for a very long time. There is a Nord who is trying to help them, one of the Thanes. Sadly, Ulfric only listens when it comes to the war and to the Nords. Whoever is not a Nord , is not welcomed.

The dark elven legacy has brought a big stain on the canvas of the world. From their arrogance, to their taditions and slave trade activities, as well as being openly believing in the daedric gods, I can totally understand Ulfric's resentment, however, this is not the way to bring peace and prosperity to this land. I also saw two citizens harassing an innocent dunmer, accusing her of being an imperial spy and a useless stain. I interrupted their raging comments and I'll make sure they get what they deserve, sooner or later. I'll even grant them trial by combat, to lat them die with the honor they love so much. Opinions on Ulfric Stormcloak.

18th of Last Seed, 4th Era, Year 199:

Singing at the tavern, preferring the cornerclub. Taking revenge on the two Nord agitators from the main quarter, a wounded, homeless war veteran and an arrogant Nord peasant, with a mind as small as his fighting spirit. Killed both. Leaving Windhelm to deliver a missive and get away from Ulfric's wrath. Considering to pay my dues through rescuing a Nord from a bandit camp and getting some legendary sword for Ulfric to build more credibility towards sitting on Skyrim's throne. Hoping to stop and kill him one day. Heading to Ansilvund, where the sword was stored.

I read about Ansilvund in a Nord classical epic. The sad story of two lovers, who tried to be together against the will of their families. They went to extensive lengths to remain together, ultimately one of them was poisoned. His love Fjori went to Akavir, to search for a cure but by the time she got back, her lover seemed to be dead. She gave him the cure and he was healed, yet she was bitten by the same snake and died without an antidote. He built the great tomb of Ansilvund for her and the entire clan, then took his own life so that they could be together. Truly a sad story.

Ansilvund had been covered by landslides in the last few eras and now there was an excavation led by necromancers, to get to the tomb of the legendary lovers. The Redguard in charge, an arrogant woman who forgot the value of headgear, named Lu'ah was in grief, that her husband had been burnt before she could resurrect him. Sadly, even so, she could not bring his spirit back. Necromancy is not that powerful.

The ghosts of the two lovers were relieved that I had freed their spirits from the slavery of necromancy and granted me the Ghostblade, a strange sword that was made out of their magical essence. I managed to get the queen's sword, but Ulfric is not getting to see it, unless it's piercing his heart. He is the reason that Skyrim was plunged into chaos after all. I'll head back to Windhelm and hide the sword in the Gray Quarter. No Nord would go searching there, simply out of disgust.

19th of Last Seed, 4th Era, Year 199:

I set south from Windhelm moving on the main roads. After being ambushed by bandits along the way and wolves hunting at the edge of the road, I decided to go off route, on some barely mapped tracks. Curiously, there were no wolves or other hostile wild life, a few foxes and a couple of rabbits made an appearance, which were a good addition to my supply of pelts.

I have taken the tracks a little too far it would seem. I am at a crossroads and the track forks here. I can barely see the drawing of this track on the map, so I guess I'll go with luck. The missive must be brought to a man working at the Whiterun Courier Office. Which is ironic. After I deliver that, I think I'll collect my payment and head over inside the walls of the city to grab a cup of ale and something to eat. I am going to be exhausted by the time I get there tomorrow.

Bloody bandits noticed the fire coming from the top of the mountain and found my camp. Luckily I was out cutting some wood and they did not find me. What found them, were the tips of my arrows. I heard in Windhelm that ever since the war, the bandits have grown an ever bigger threat in the region. If the two parties engaged in this war are not careful, they could be dealing with a united bandit front, interested only in stealing and pillaging. That is not something anyone wants for Skyrim. In any case I must push onwards.

20th of Last Seed, 4th Era, Year 199:

Managed to get to the Whiterun Courier Agency intact, much to my excitement. 300 gold pieces for delivering a piece of paper? I could do this more often, if the risk of being murdered or eaten wouldn't be so great and I'm not talking about bandits. Those are my last worry right now.

Arrived at the Bannered Mare Inn. Right outside the inn, I was shaken to the core. I met a young lady, Ysolda. She looks just like her...my Iara. I never thought someone would exist that could reignite in me the feelings I had before her father started sending assassins after me throughout Tamriel. I remembered how good it felt, how exciting it was. The courting, the long talks and the most intimate of moments. I think...I think I am beginning to feel like myself again. The man who left his house to sing in Anvil that day, not the man that left Cyrodiil drugged unconscious on a boat, to the far reaches of Skyrim.

I know it is perhaps wrong, but I have to try. Perhaps I haven't lost my touch and I can relive those moments of pure bliss.

Fought a Handmaiden. Quite the fighter. I had the advantage that I was not fully clad in steel plate armor. She offered to follow into battle is I need her help. Nords do truly care about their traditions. I have heard that in the old days, they used to resolve disputes through dueling to exhaustion. Even in the judicial system, a convicted criminal, who thought he was innocent could request a trial by combat where either he or someone that represented him, against the representative of the victim or the victim themselves. I bet that is a rule that Ulfric would gladly bring back.

After my heart was woken up by Ysolda's beauty and wit, I started noticing potential romance opportunities around me. In particular, a lone mother, selling her crops to feed her daughter. She is of a beauty that mortals rarely see. The very reason why half of Whiterun has already proposed. I have agreed to help her investigate the return of her old husband, who had run away a long time ago. I might have put too high of a price, but it is definitely worth the risk.

First however, I should worry about taking that mammoth tusk, for Ysolde. Those are rare to find items, from what I;ve heard. I will set foot tomorrow to search for the nearest Giant camp, where they keep their mammoths. I don't even know if I will live to see another day, but I don't care. If this is my chance to get my Iara back, I must not hold back. I must try everyhing I know and tric the large dumb dumbs.

21th of Last Seed, 4th Era, Year 199:

Well if Ysolda wants that bloody tusk, then fine, I'll take it from them giants, or at least off their mammoth.I'm lucky that those giants are dumber than drunken Nords. They left their mammoth roam unattended. When the beast got too far from its masters, I jumped and cut part of its tusk with my sword. I hope it'll be enough for Ysolda. I mean, how much battling can a bard take for the love of Dibella? Ițm a lover not a fighter. I was meant to write ballads about the great warriors and battles and write poetry about lovely maidens. Then again, this is Skyrim. Nothing comes without fighting for it apparently. By the gods, I completely forgot. I need to get back to Eastmarch and rescue that man before it is too late. That could raise me in the eyes of the citizens of Winterhold. I also will retrieve the sword Ulfric wants so much, although I believe I will keep it for a little while longer. Why give it to the man that hates those of my kind, even if he says he is fighting for the true sons and daughters of Skyrim, no matter if they are not Nords. I'm a scoundrel at heart, I know how to see a lie when presented with one.

22nd of Last Seed, 4th Era, Year 199:

Ysolda was very happy to get her tusk, not so happy to receive my advances. She gave me a hint that she is in love with one of the Khajiit, of the caravans. While strange, it is not that strange. I've seen stranger things in my personal love life. In any case, I need to find this Khajiit and have a long talk with him.

Carlotta, the lonely mother told me about her husband who had left them. She pointed me in the direction of Shearpoint, where he said he was going. I will need to investigate, but first, we go back to Eastmarch and rescue that man, especially now that I have superior gear to withstand another battle. I don't even know if by the end of my journey I'll be able to consider myself a bard and a scoundrel anymore.

27th of Last Seed, 4th Era, Year 199:

It took me 4 days to rescue that poor Nord. The bandits had fortified their position on a glacier and I had to swim to get to them. I almost froze to death doing that, but hey, I hope the gold will be worth it. Good thing I managed to warm up at their campfire after slaughtering them. The man arrived safe and sound home, only to go to the inn, fill himself with ale and wine and walk drunk the street of Winterhold expressing his anger for everything around him and how useless everyone is. Note to self: make sure that if he gets kidnapped again, I go and kill him myself.

28th of Last Seed, 4h Era, Year 199:

I managed to gather the supplies for the next journey. First, to Solitude, where the Khajiit caravan was last seen, then to Shearpoint, to search for Carlotta's husband and then back to Ysolda.

30th of Last Seed, 4th Era, Year 199:

So, I don't even know what to say. Grabbed a carriage to Whiterun after talking to Ma'dran, the leader of the caravan. It was an insightful discussion between two scoundrels about a beautiful maiden. Apparently, Ysolda is quite the saber cat under the sheets and that mammoth tusk was a wonderful and practical gift for her. Ma'dran of course, doesn't _truly_ love her, he only thinks of her as a thrall, not uncommon for his kind. In any case, if I want him to leave Ysolda alone, I'll have to retrieve a lost shipment of Sleeping Tree Sap, a very potent liquid, from inside another giant's home. What is with these people and giants, I have no idea.

3rd of Hearthfire, 4th Era, Year 199:

I have managed to get the tree sap with the help of the Nord handmaiden i brawled at the Bannered Mare in Whiterun. Quite the strange alliance. Anyway, I got what Ma'dran wanted, time to get what I want.

Ysolda reacted well to Ma'dran's letter. She understood that he never loved her, which saddened her, but nothing seems to stop this saber cat's hunting instinct. It was a night to remember and definitely a good ballad to write. Now, to Shearpoint and to the next poem to be written about the fair maidens of Skyrim.

10th of Hearthfire, 4th Era, Year 199:

Uthgerd...died. We got to Shearpoint, only to find the place deserted. From one of the coffins, an ancient Nord sorcerer rose and almost killed us. I had some magicka regeneration poison, which greatly helped the fight. The sorcerer was almost down when he fired a large flaming ball of fire from his staff. Uthgerd took the shot for me. I will never forget my sister in arms. I will write an epic story about her battle against this strange character.

I found the husband's journal. He never intended to leave his family, he loved them, but they needed money. Only a Nord could take delving into ruins to find treasure as the best solution to gaining wealth. Apparently he was under orders from one Valmir. Soundes elven, strange...last he said he was heading back to the ruins where Valmir was waiting.

15th of Hearthfire, 4th Era, Year 199:

Valmir told me about an ancient artefact, a mask, worn by the distinguished members of something called the Dragon Cult. These were the leaders of the Nords during the Merethic Era, when dragons of all beasts roamed Tamriel, enslaving the humans. He wants me to delve into the ruin and retrieve the mask. Lovely. The things we do for love. Flavius is not here, so it must mean he is in the ruins. Maybe he is still alive. I could bring him home a hero and write another legendary work while at it.

What in the world was I thinking. I have burns all over my body. There was an entire army of draugr and ghosts inside this place, got lucky using the traps against them. The entire stronghold had commited mass suicide, to follow their crazed leader in death, before some elf barged in, who was sieging the stronghold. He was a sorcerer, jus like the one I and Uthgerd fought at Shearpoint, only this time...I barely made it. Flavius was truly caring for his family, he had his daughter's favorite toy on him and some last words expressing his sorrow and sadness.

To make matters worse, Valmir proved to only be a Thalmor agent, trying to collect the masks of these Dragon Priests and take them somewhere called Labyrinth, or something like that. Guess which 2 masks are never going there? Exactly. Just like Ulfric ain't never seeing that sword again. Time to get back to Whiterun.

20th of Hearthfire, 4th Era, year 199:

Flavius' family was glad to get some closure. Carlotta was more than just grateful. She is a beautiful maiden. She told me she was ready now to take suitors for herself and find a new husband. She agreed to take me on, as her first challenge. I was more than happy to oblige.

Her story will be one of rebuilding a family and nothing is more inspiring. It will be an honor to document it, in detail. I think I'll stay in Whiterun for a while and taste the fruit of my labor. I have to relax and remember that I am a bard and an adept of Dibella first of all and an adventurer, only when there is a need for a story to be told, or a maiden to impress.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Grand Tour

(Frostfall, 4E199 - Evening Star, 4E199)

1st of Frostfall, 4th Era, Year 199:

I decided to start a new journey. I can't stay in one place for too long. I got so bored of Whiterun and its constant flow of people. I want to be on the road again. Carlotta will have to understand this and the fact that I am my own man.

I hired a mercenary, Jenassa, a gorgeous dark elf to accompany me and Ysolda on my tour of Skyrim's inns and taverns. Even if I have performed in many of them, it's time that the people of Skyrim hear my songs once more. This time, I'll show them the beauty and grace of the cyrodiilian music.

Just to spice things up, I picked some missives. We'll rescue a citizen of Stonehills and sing in Morthal for starters. Then we'll travel to Winterhold, the icy ruin.

5th of Frostfall, 4th Era, Year 199:

Mikael was right. Ysolda is one crazy Nord lass. Her skill fighting with 2 swords is incredible. Her enemies just fall dead at her feet, before they can even take one shot. We rescued Sorli from Redoran's Retreat and we are going to travel through an ancient Nord ruin, called Labyrinthian. From what Ysolda told me, it used to be one of the greatest Nord settlements.

We got ambushed by Frost Trolls. We managed to kill a couple, but Jenassa was wounded. We tried, but they had us cornered. We managed to escape through a portal and ended up in some sort of strange Nord dungeon. We fought the draugr and a man wearing a dragon priest mask. I couldn't remove the mask off his face, it seemed to just be stuck to his head. Very strange.

7th of Frostfall, 4th Era, Year 199:

We arrived in Stonehills and spent a night at their small, make-shift tavern. Morthal is not far from here and we should get there by tonight.

Morthal seems to have some sort of problems. An unwelcome mage moved in and there was a fire only days after. It would seem that they think it was the mage's fault. In any case, the inn seems cozy from outside.

Well, the gods are very graceful today. My good old friend and the one who betrayed me, the orc wannabe Bard Lurbuk is staying at the inn. He was probably kicked out of all the taverns from the Imperial City to here. I challenged and defeated him in a duel. I finally took my revenge for what happened.

12th of Frostfall, 4th Era, Year 199:

My time in Morthal is done. Managed to help the town with some bandits, living in a cave they called Orotheim. At least the road to Winterhold will be safe now.

16th of Frostfall, 4th Era, Year 199:

We have arrived in Winterhold. The once great city does look desolate indeed. Poor Nords. They believe that the College of mages here is responsible for the Great Collapse, that sunk most of the city in the Sea of Ghosts. The legacy of the legendary mages shadowed by some Jarl's unfounded ideas, based on the prejudice he has against the elves and magic in general.

The inn seems interestingly involved with the College. Well then, another set of performances here should do.

21st of Frostfall, 4th Era, Year 199:

I talked with Jenassa today, the deadly mercenary told me about some bandits in possession of documents related to the East Empire Company, that she failed to get, prompting the company to put a bounty on her head, believing she stole the documents herself. I decided to help her.

22nd of Frostfall, 4th Era, Year 199:

We managed to easily dispatch the bandits at the Halted Stream Camp and get the documents Jenassa needed. It now remains to take them to Windhelm, to the office of the company there.

26th of Frostfall, 4th Era, Year 199:

We arrived in Windhelm. The Company was more than eager to pay me for the service, but said that the bounty had to be paid off in some other fashion, by stealing the logs of the competition, which allegedly was hiring pirates to take down East Empire ships along the western shore of Skyrim.

We also visited the Gray Quarter, where Jenassa met an old friend and talked about the never-changing situation of the dark elve's refugee problem. Apparently they have lived here for more than 50 years, which makes Ulfric seem rather old and also brings to light a very sad tale. The dark elves might've been an arrogant people, believing in the immortality of their leaders and their rights to own other mortals, but it ain't those that survived. Those that survived were simple people, farmers, traders and other commoners. Now, they have to live in these slums, only because of one man's hatred for the elves.

Jenassa even had a relationship with a Nord woman here. The Nords had her literary killed for the secret affair. I understand now why Jenassa is such an independent and distant type. In any case, I got the logs from the Shatter-Shield office, time to get them to Orthus and pay off Jenassa's dues.

27th of Frostfall, 4th Era , Year 199:

We brought the logs back. Orthus is still not willing to pay Jenassa's debt, not until we don't take care of the pirate problem completely. He sent us to Dawnstar, to talk with one of the captains mentioned in the logs and get information about the location of the pirate base.

Why can't things ever be easy, when it comes to winning a woman's heart.

2nd of Sun's Dusk, 4th Era Year 199:

We have arrived in Dawnstar and after a long discussion and big pay, I managed to get the information we need. Some Great War veteran mage got involved with them and decided to use his magic for pillaging and stealing.

7th of Sun's Dusk, 4th Era Year, 199:

Orhus has called for reinforcements from one of his associates, Adelaisa, an Imperial Officer, in charge with the Windhelm East Empire Company's operation. She said she was going to pay off Jenassa's debt, if we agree to kill Haldyn and make sure the operation is safe. Also, she is interested in me and Jenassa for more personal reasons. Here is the catch to paying off her debt. Well, I do agree it ain't exactly fair to profit off someone's situation to get your fix, but then again, I am a fugitive because of that same reason. I can't complain much. Onwards to Japhet's Folly, to kill ourselves a bastard apparently.

10th of Sun's Dusk, 4th Era, Year 199:

It would seem that Haldyn has cast a spell, covering the icy island into a blizzard, impossible to pass with a large vessel, like ours. As if the past 2 days of sailing blindly through magical fog and fighting off pirate scoundrels wasn't enough.

We disembarked on an ice layer. Adelaisa knows there's a Sea Cave leading into the keep. We'll use that to sneak in and kill the mage.

We did it, we're in. We cleared the lower levels of bandits. I'm glad I have Ysolda with me, her berserk fighting style left the bandits with no choice. Of course, my use of the bow dispatched some of them and my mastery of the Dibellan Arts seduced others, but Ysolda's sheer rage and bloodlust took us to this point.

We ascended into the tower, only for Haldyn to paralyse Jenassa with a spell and then blew us away with a fireball. I was burned and wounded, almost at my last breath. He approached with a large blade, to finish me off. Ysolda jumped in front of the sword and saved my life, sacrificing hers. I had the time to stand, draw and arrow and fire it right in between the bastard's eyes. I will never forget you Ysolda, your sacrifice will be remembered in my works. The tale of the Iron Maiden will be one told forever. Ysolda will become a Nord legend, may she rest in Sovngarde.

The paralyze spell wore off when Haldyn died and Jenassa and I were able to get out. We fought our way back to Adelaisa and sailed off back to Windhelm. Friend lost, battle won, pirates dispatched, operation secured.

12th of Sun's Dusk, 4th Era, Year 199:

Adelaisa cleared Jenassa's debt after we dealt our personal contribution. She agreed to come with me and Jenassa in our journey across Skyrim. It will be a glorious time. Jenassa told me she will go back to Windhelm when all is done, to help Adelaisa with the East Empire Company and to aid the dunmer of the Gray Quarter.

Onwards to Winterhold, to finish my performances and then we'll leave for Dawnstar. Still have to perform some more in Morthal, if I want to maintain my plan of performing 5 times at each inn or tavern across the province.

15th of Sun's Dusk, 4th Era, Year 199:

Arrived in Winterhold today, nothing much happened. We had to make camp on the road because of a blizzard. Good thing I decided to resupply our firewood reserve. I'll need to get a horse soon, otherwise traveling will simply become unbearable. Jenassa and Adelaisa should also get some faster means of transportation. I'm sick with being entire days on the road because of the weather in this place. If there's anything I hate about northern Skyrim, its the icy climate.

The former city looks rather desolate, apparently it all sunk in the sea during an event called the Great Collapse, the only intact building left was the College of mages. The Jarl of the city blames the mages and seems rather adamant about hating the elves, although his own steward is a dunmer. The man probably was the steward of Winterhold for generations, given the average lifespan of the dunmer. In any case, I will sure not deal with the Jarl during my stay. If he hates elves, I don't want to know what he thinks about Imperials.

20th of Sun's Dusk, 4th Era, Year 199:

Finally done with my performances and I feel rather adventurous. The road to Dawnstar is a pretty boring one if you ask me, so I decided to take a more rustic route, along the northern shore. We'll make camp if necessary and maybe see some more of Skyrim's northern wilderness, which I find rather inspiring, for all its harshness.

Time to depart for Dawnstar.

22nd of Sun's Dusk, 4th Era, Year 199:

We arrived in Dawnstar at dusk. It will be a long 5 days in this frozen port. From what I hear, people have had problems with their dreams as of late. Luckily it does not affect us, as we are travelers. Strange as it may be, it only brings profits. People can't sleep because of nightmares, so they drink. When they drink they sing and they need a bard to give them proper music. For that, I am here.

25th of Sun's Dusk, 4th Era, Year 199:

As expected, my time in Dawnstar was short and uneventful. The city is plagued by nightmares and it seems that it will be so for years to come. No one knows why. I have my own journey to go on. All I can do is hope that one day a hero will come and take care of the problem and finally provide the people of Dawnstar with a solution to their problems.

For me, it's onwards to sing in Morthal, I still have 2 performances to make there as part of my plan, from there to Dragonbridge, then Rorikstead and finally the large city of Markarth, where I'll probably have more stories to tell.

I also met Kharjo, the khajiit who asked me to retrieve an amulet for him months ago. I was more than happy to return it and give him some happy news about the death of the thieves. He pledged his sword to me and joined our merry band of travelers towards Morthal.

1st of Evening Star, 4th Era, Year 199:

The mighty winter has come, even in central Skyrim. The air is chilling. I have finished my last planned performance in Rorikstead, an interesting and quaint little village on the border with the wild Reach. I hear that the Forsworn, who consider themselves the natives of the Reach have been hard at work trying to retake Markarth and have become savages who worship the hagraven witches. From the legends I know, they are daedra worshippers, although the Hagravens have dealings with the Hist as well. The sentient trees have been known to try silent conquering techniques in the past. Since the Sleeping Tree in Whiterun Hold is a Hist, it probably decide to spread and use the Forsworn's hagravens, as the Hist in their homeland use the argonians. Very interesting.

As interesting as the whole situation in the Reach is, for a bard and historian, such as I. The more pressing security issue is more problematic. If I want to arrive in Markarth alive, we'll have to be extra careful on the roads.

2nd of Evening Star, 4th Era, Year 199:

A blizzard came out of nowhere and took our camp down, we almost froze. We've taken refuge in an old fort, to guard ourselves from the cold. Unfortunately, it was filled with Forsworn.

We fought valiantly against the savages, until we discovered a hagraven, willing to make a deal with us, if we help her retake the tower. We agreed to her deal, knowing that without her dark magic, we would surely not survive another encounter with the savage warriors of the Forsworn.

When we took the tower, the opposing hagraven blasted fireballs everywhere, nearly killing me, Jenassa and Adelaisa. We survived. Sadly as the battle was coming to a close, Kharjo charged the witch crushing its head. I say sadly, because the wretched hagraven managed to cast one last fireball, as the mace crushed her head as it would a pumpkin. That fireball was her last resort and its power transformed Kharjo into dust. I will forever mourn him, he was a lyal friend, even if we didn;t get to know each other all that well.

The _friendly_ hagraven decided to give me her staff. We agreed never to cross paths with her and left. I write these words in my journal, as I see my two closest companions leave me. After Ysolda's death I was heartbroken, yet I had Jenassa and Adelaisa to keep me from being alone. Now, I must let the two lovers go, let them create their own legend, as mine is too perilous for them to lose their lives. Jenassa and Adelaisa have higher purposes than traveling Skyrim in search for fame and fortune. I hope that they can help the dunmer of Windhelm regain some of their dignity and maybe improve their lives.

I push onwards however. Me and the mutt we found on the road from Morthal to Dragonbridge, named Meeko push onwards towards Markarth, where my tour will go on with sad songs of mourning and grief.

7th of Evening Star, 4th Era, Year 199:

I have arrived in Markarth, only to be greeted with more death and violence. An attempted murder was stopped by a misterious warrior, dressed in steel armor. He had arrived by carriage, just as I walked the steps into the city.

The city of Markarth is run by the Silver-Blood family. They are the strongest family in the west of Skyrim, owning most of the silver mines, including Markarth's mine and prison, Cidhna Mine. It's no wonder that the inn is named after them. The people are rigid, cold and resentful here in Markarth, torn by Ulfric's guerilla war against the Empire and the Forsworn rebellion in the hills and mountains have taken a large toll on the people of Markarth. That is indeed an opportunity for me to lift their spirits and give them an escape from their continuous struggle.

As I prayed after my long acclaimed performance, I received a vision from the goddess. That is rarely the case for those who follow the Dibellan Arts. Our goddess gives us beauty, charisma and the art of romance, yet direct interaction is only heard of in the old legends. In my vision, a little girl is kidnapped by Forsworn and taken to be sacrificed in a dark ritual which would not only desecrate the name of Dibella, but also weaken her influence over the temple here in Markarth. That would live the priestesses without any divine powers, strongly improving their chances to retake the city. The Hist are an insidious race, indeed. This little girl, must be the fabled Sybil of Dibella. Every few hundred years, a person is born, blessed by Dibella herself, said to have the strongest heart, capable of great deeds in the service of the goddess of beauty and pleasure. It is my duty to tell this to the priestesses, to warn them.

8th of Evening Star, 4th Era, Year 199:

I have visited the temple after my performance, while I miss the company of my two companions, piety is all that gives me hope towards a future filled with Dibella's promises. Therefore, I warned the priestess Hamal who tasked me with finding the girl they also received a vision of. They consider it to be a sign that I, too, received her grace's vision. I have started my journey towards Karthwasten, where Hamal has seen a glimpse of the girl's family.

10th of Evening Star, 4th Era, Year 199:

The Forsworn are definitely a growing problem here in the Reach. A one day's run became a two day's walk, only because of their control over the northern roads. I managed to get here to Karthwasten, where the Silver-Bloods are conducting the acquiring of a native owned mine. While the Forsworn are a danger, there are rechmen who did not go berserk, their life is a tough one, under the Stormcloak supporting Silver-Blood's. A man almost lost his ownership of the mine, if I had not intervened. Their life is hard enough and if it comes to it, perhaps these natives who did not join the Forsworn could be those who earn the respect of the Nords (if that is even possible in these times).

In any case, I found the family and they pointed me towards the ruins, where they say the Forsworn took their daughter. It is a small run-down outpost, 3 days north of Karthwasten.

18th of Evening Star, 4th Era, Year 199:

It took some effort, but I have managed to rescue the girl. She is so young, maybe too young for the Dibellan Arts, yet I am not one to question the ways of my patron god. I will continue on this path. Her family was pleasantly surprised by the divine duty assigned to their daughter, to be the chosen one of Dibella. They agreed to let her join the priestesses in Markarth.

We arrived in Markarth and Hamal gave me the goddesses blessing. For the first time in my life, I felt the presence of the goddess and the girl entered a trance. The goddess spoke to me, told me that I was to resume spreading the beauty and pleasure of the world through song and poetry, but be wary of the past, because her protection could not extend to what was to follow. I do not fully understand the warning, but I do believe it has to do with my good old friend, the Count. Perhaps he managed to find out that I am still alive, most probably from hearing about my performances in Skyrim, from one of his informants. For now, I will resume my tour and see what happens, if he comes for me, I'll be ready.

25th of Evening Star, 4th Era, Year 199:

I have arrived in the mighty city of Falkreath, quite the rustic establishment, famous for the large cemetery, where the greatest heroes of the province. My time here will be spent at the Dead Man's Drink Inn and Tavern. It's difficult to find for outsiders and a good place for me to accomplish my plan while also laying low.

30th of Evening Star, 4th Era, Year 199:

It appears it is time for my last trip before visiting the two remaining cities of Skyrim, Riften and finally the capital of Solitude, where I heard about a College of Bards I could join to hone my bardic skills. Time to leave the mighty Falkreath and its arrogant Jarl behind, to visit the small village of Riverwood, Whiterun Hold, right at the border with Falkreath's territory.


End file.
